


Fix me please...

by GreenQueenofClubs



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Clint is actually the stable one, Damaged!Phil, Happy Ending, M/M, Phil Needs a Hug, Rape in the army, Somehow...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 09:18:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenQueenofClubs/pseuds/GreenQueenofClubs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One lone question haunted Phil Coulson at night...</p>
<p>Is there a point where you can't be brought back together?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fix me please...

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, this piece was inspired by the recent numbers that came out about the numbers of rape in the army getting higher than ever.
> 
> So it's not all rainbow and flowers, but there is a happy ending!

Phil Coulson looked around, still walking quietly, cautiously, even after a year in the military. Most of the guys and girls who enlisted at the same time as him were more than accustomed by now, striding around with the arrogance of those who haven’t been taught yet that they are not immortals.

Phillip Coulson didn’t. He was perfectly aware that he wasn’t immortal, that he wasn’t untouchable. He knew he was the butt of the joke around the base.

Trust him, he knew.

He knew it the same way he knew Ross and his gang was eyeing him; that their obstinacy in punching him around wasn’t all there would be.

He knew it all, but he also knew there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He didn’t have any friends, no one to have his back. So he kept a low profile, and hoped they’d forget about him before they got to do anything. It wasn’t as if he was important or anything. Just a bit of easy fun.

The base was quiet at night, and Phil was able to get to his barrack without troubles. He slipped on his cot, ignoring the other members of his unit as they always did. He blessed his lucky star that _they_ weren’t paying him any attention outside of the missions. There wasn’t much he could do if they had decided to abuse him when they were there at night.

Phil slipped into and uneasy sleep, eyelids crushed together.

_The high school was packed._

_Phil clutched his books to his chest.  He didn’t run. The hallway stretched. He couldn’t reach for the handle. He couldn’t get to class._

_He heard heavy footsteps. He walked faster._

_The footsteps were closer. He ran._

_Someone grabbed his shoulder. He was whirled around. It was Jenkins. The school bully. He smiled. His crooked teeth gleamed menacingly._

_"Hey there, Pippy, going somewhere?"  
_

_Phil struggled sluggishly. The boy laughed mockingly. Slowly his face shifted to Ross’. Phil whimpered and fought harder. Ross pushed him away._

_Phil tripped. He fell._

_People closed on him. Jenkins. Ross. Their friends. They were laughing._

_His sister. His mother. His father. They were disgusted. They looked down on him._

_Phil didn’t cry. Phil wouldn’t cry._

_Henry was there. He was with Jenkins. They were friends. Jenkins was better than Phil._

Phil jerked awake, opening his eyes, breathing heavily.

He knew he didn’tscream, didn’t cry, didn’t move. He knew that because he never did. Even as a baby, he was silent, never complaining. He would do more than whine, indicating his discomfort.

He was the perfect baby. No one cared. His mother tended to his sister first, the loud, out spoken child who demanded attention. Phil came second, or third, or fourth, depending on his parents’ day.

It was okay. It really was. He accepted that he was forgettable, that he would be a wall flower. He learned to use it to his advantage.

He walked out to have a bit of fresh air. It was early, maybe half an hour before dawn, but Phil knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. He decided to go to the main room, aware the computers would be free, as any regular grunt would be as blissfully asleep as one could be in the army.

He smiled as he opened his email and saw the new message from Clint. He opened it eagerly.

_Hey  handsome,_

Phil smiled at Clint repetitive usage of handsome in his letter for Phil, when they agreed they didn’t want to share pictures.

Phil didn’t have it in him to tell Clint he really wasn’t handsome. After all, they _had_ agreed not to send pictures. So physical appearance wasn’t supposed to be an issue, right?

_How are you doing? I hope the bosses aren’t pushing you too hard! How you can deal with the army I can’t understand. Anyway, I just did a couple of shows near Chicago. That’s where you come from, right? Maybe your folks came to see me?_

_Anyway it was a good crowd, so yeah. You come from a cool place._

_Oh and pizza is ruined forever to me. You’ll have to thank your pizzeria for that. I won’t be able to eat any anywhere else._

_Anyway, talk to you soon!_

_Clint_

Phil did his best not to smile like a loon and answered as well as he could, but he couldn’t have recalled what he wrote exactly afterward even to save his life. He was too busy imagining him and Clint in Chicago visiting the highlights and all of Phil’s favorite nooks and crannies.

By then the base had started to stir, and Phil closed his session on the computer, mood considerably lighter than before.

He was on his way to the mess when somebody grabbed him. Panic grabbed his throat, and Phil lashed instinctively, an elbow blow to the gut. His assailant stepped away for a second, before pushing him forward, pressing behind him, smashing his face into the brick wall. Phil grunted and struggled, to no avail.

"Well then, Coulson, that’s no way to greet a friend."

Phil grunted, muffled.

"Fuck you."

Ross chuckled, and leaned forward talking quietly.

"I woke jittery this morning. You’ll help, won’t you? Of course you will."

He whirled Phil around, not leaving the other man the time to do anything, not even brace even before he punched him in the gut. Phil groaned, doubling over.

From the corner of his eye he saw the next punch coming, angling his body so that the force of the impact wouldn’t send his head to smash against the wall.

Ross smirked and kept on hitting and hitting until Phil was on the ground struggling for breathe, and it wasn’t physiologically possible for him to be hit any more before the marks were too obvious.

Ross took a few moments to look down on him, cocking his head to the side. For the first time, Phil saw his gang behind him, keeping guard like good little minions.

Phil didn’t cry. He stared up at Ross as defiantly as he could. The other man simply shook his head, smirking even more at him.

"Well, that one’s always ripe.”

Phil glared even more, and decidedly kept his gaze on the other man’s face. Not on the bulge in his pants, definitely not ready to process the implications of it. He had decided that being anxious about anything before it happened. It wasn’t helpful. It wasn’t healthy. They all went away, leaving the younger man alone to pick himself up.

Phil got to his feet, shaking the ground off himself. He limped away, making his best to hide it when he arrived to the mess.

He did the mistake once to go and complain to his superior. He made the mistake to forget that Ross was the son of one of the most influential general in the hierarchy at the moment. Just as Jenkins had been the son of the head of the school board.

Phil knew how to pick his bullies, didn’t he?

OOOOOO

Phil felt his cheekbone bruise as Ross slammed him face first unto the table.  He pushed himself up, only to be smashed down again by two of Ross’ minions. He wriggled, trying to slip free.

Ross punched him in the kidney. Phil screamed out. Ross chuckled.

“Be a nice bitch, Coulson.”

He growled, trying to scream again, hoping against hope someone would hear him and take pity.

A third goon stuffed a cloth into his mouth, and Phil prayed it was at least clean.

His pants were ripped off, pushed down. He twisted and turned and got slapped for his efforts. Ross spread his ass cheeks apart.

“Oh Coulson. Even your fucking ass his plain. Seriously. You know there is a rumor you were created in a lab, to be the perfect little average soldier?”

Phil heard the sound of Ross opening his pants, taking his cock out.  He closed his eyes, trying to shut everything out. Ross kept talking.

“No one cares, you know? No one gives a shit about you.”

Phil felt the blunt tip of a cock against his anus.

“You can go and cry, but no one will listen. Because you don’t matter.”

The man pushed in.

“It’s painful, you know, watching you lick everybody’s boots? Perfect little _puppy_.”

Phil let his forehead hit the table, letting go. Ross bent forward, to whisper in a horrible travesty of a tender whisper.

“You’ll never go anywhere, Coulson, because no one will ever notice you.”

OOOOOOOO

Like floodgates being opened, once he got started on the ‘mean course’, Ross saw no reason to restrain himself. He took every opportunity to bend Phil over and fuck him, with no regard to anything short witnesses.

“COULSON! If you arrive late one more time, you’re out.”

Phil kept staring forward, gaze never wavering despite the backache and the shame and the almost irresistible urge to look around to know whether Ross was lurking, gathering new ways to break Phil down.

Phil held strong, ignoring the hunger clawing at his gut because he couldn’t eat, couldn’t keep anything down. He ignored the way he wanted to curl into a ball and sleep, but he couldn’t because he couldn’t face his nightmares.

He spent his night either staring at the ceiling or staring at Clint’s last message.

_____

_Are you okay? You sounded upset last time?_

_______

 

_Come on, Phil, talk to me? What happened?_

_OK, mister, cut the fucking bullshit. What’s going on?_

_______

_Talk to me, please._

_______

_Please, tell me what’s up. You’re slipping away from me._

_______

Phil never found anything reassuring to say.  He never knew how to settle Clint.

He hated not knowing. At least he knew where he stood with Ross. He was a sex doll who fought just enough to turn Ross on.

He knew who he was in the army. He was the little ass kisser that could be sent to be maimed and/or killed without anyone really minding.

However with Clint, he didn’t know. So he kept saying the same platitudes, and saw Clint grow more and more concerned and kept waiting for the day he was going to get ditched because he really wasn’t worth the trouble.

He never understood why someone like Clint, who traveled all across the country, who could have anybody, settled on the loser military guy he never saw in his life.

But Phil knew at some point, a point he _knew_ was getting closer and closer with each day that it was going to get too much for Clint.

He dreaded that day, almost more than he dreaded his next encounter with Ross.

OOOOOO

Phil was reading in the lounge, when suddenly the couch moved. He jumped up, crawling over the armrest, eyes wide in panic before he remembered Ross was away.

The woman stared at him for a long moment, until Phil relaxed enough to sit back down, opening his book again.

She was dark haired with startling blue eyes who followed each and every of Phil’s move.

Phil stared back, until she broke the eye contact to open her own book. Uneasily the man did the same.

After two hours she picked her things and left.

OOOOOO

Life went on for weeks. Phil felt torn between Ross’ abuse and Clint’s growing concern.

And every time Phil sat down to read, he was joined by his new ‘friend’.

OOOOOO

Three months later.

Phil stared at the computer screen, fingers shaking.

_I’m sorry Phil,_

_I don’t know what I did, what I said or whatever, but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t hold this all by myself. You barely talk to me and when you do, it’s clearly a chore. I’m sorry. But it’d be better if we stop kidding ourselves._

_Good luck,_

_Clint_

Phil stared and stared and stared and tried to find the words to make Clint realize it wasn’t his fault. That despite everything, Clint’s message was the best part of his day.

That he needed Clint. He would beg, if he could. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t because Clint deserved better.

“Are you crying Coulson?”

Phil jumped away from the screen, tripping in the chair. Ross was staring at him, a cruel grin stretching his mouth.

“You are. You are crying, you fucking faggot.”

Phil growled at him, not even trying to wipe the tears away. It was too late anyway. Ross had seen them.

The shark had smelled blood.

 Ross took a step forward.

“What is it? Your girlfriend dumped you?”

Phil glared. Ross chuckled.

“Right. Wanna give me her address? I’ll show her what a real man feels like.”

Phil felt his anger rise from his feet up to his chest, burning and destroying. He would go down before he let Ross anywhere close to Clint.

Before he realised it, he punched Ross in the face.

The time stopped.

Before Ross came to his senses—manner of speaking --- Phil was knocked down and fucked worse than ever. But for that second it was worth it.

For that second, he had took on the bad guy, and whatever the cost, he did what he could.

The glow didn’t vanish until after Ross was gone, when Phil was left prostrate on the floor, alone, bruised and heartbroken.

Phil didn’t cry. He couldn’t. He didn’t have anything in him anymore. He was empty.

Maybe Ross finally succeeded in breaking him.

He didn’t even react when someone stepped next to him, hauling him to his feet and unto the couch.

He didn’t react when they started to clean him with a towel.

He didn’t react until the woman sat beside him like she always did, opening the TV on some documentary.

For a long time, neither one talked. Finally, for the first time since they ‘met’, Phil opened his mouth.

“What do you want from me?”

She turned and stared at him with hollow and shuttered eyes. Eyes Phil saw in the mirror each and every day. Eyes he hated because they betrayed his weakness.

Somehow, for this woman, with her straight spine and her strong eyebrows, they looked like a testimony for human strength and stubbornness.  Her voice was neutral and calm, as perfectly controlled as one could be.

“Be gay.”

Phil nodded once and turned back toward the TV.

OOOOOO

“COULSON!”

Phil jumped from his riffle toward his unit chef who just called his name.

No one called his name.

“Get your ass over here.”

He got to his feet, jogging to him, his eyes inspecting the stranger standing beside his superior.

“Coulson, this is Fury. You’re with him now. Get your things and get the fuck out.”

And with that, without letting Phil compute anything, the tall black man, who apparently was named Fury, walked away, expecting Phil to follow him.

So Phil did.

They walked in silence for over ten minutes until they reached a barrack at the end corner of the base. Then only did Fury turn and gave Phil a long once over.

“I will push you father than anybody did, I will ask more from you than anybody did, and I’ll break the law if I have to. But I can promise I will do my best to keep you alive, I will not leave you behind if I have any other choice, and as long as you’re part of my crew, nobody will touch you.”

He waited, looking expectantly at Phil. The younger man realized he didn’t have any time to think. He had to answer now. He straightened as much as he could.

“Where do I sign, sir?”

Fury stared than barked a laugh.

“First lesson, son. Paperwork his overrated. Now get your ass inside, I’ll make sure someone goes gather your stuff.”

Phil frowned at him.

“Sir, I’d prefer if nobody touched-“

Fury cut him off with a look.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll send that one, Ross’ dumb blond friend, what’s his name?”

“Smith?”

“Yeah, that one. He’ll do the job.”

Phil frowned, because he really didn’t want one of Ross’ minion to get his hand on his stuff.

“Sir-“

Fury interrupted him again.

“It’ll be fine.”

Phil felt the warning in Fury’s aura, the danger. Strangely, he knew it wasn’t meant for him and felt strangely comforted by him.

“Yes, sir.”

Fury smiled briefly at him before walking away, joined after a few feet by a Latin looking man, who literally appeared out of nowhere.

Phil pushed the barrack’s door, a bit scarred of what he’d find.

There was only one person inside. The woman tensed and went for her sidearm, pointing it at Phil, before only relaxing when she recognized him.

Phil stared at her, wondering what to say. It was the first time he saw her since the night Clint ended things. Should he thank her? Should he ignore the issue? Should he ignore that obvious fact that she had been in a very similar situation to his?

In the end she talked first.

“You joined.”

Phil nodded, his voice surer than it had been in a while.

“I did.”

She nodded, the ghost of a smile twitching at the corner of her lip and she turned back toward the book she was reading, knowing all she apparently wanted to know. Phil took the hint and sat down on a free cot, viciously crushing the potentially very dangerous and soul shattering hope that thing would be different now that was rising in his chest.

OOOOOO

Three hours later, Phil and the woman’s serene sharing of space was disturbed when the door opened and suddenly Ross’ blond friend climbed in with Phil’s duffel. From the corner of his eyes Phil saw the Latin looking man he saw with Fury sooner, but he was mostly focus on the blond.

The man glared at him as if it was all his fault, and dumped the bag on the foot of the cot. He then grumbled something under his breath. Phil simply nodded like an idiot, because really, he really wanted the man to go away. He was feeling his muscles lock, his breath getting shallower and shallower.

The woman though, she leaned forward, frowning at the man.

“What was that? I didn’t catch it.”

The man sent her a poisoning, nasty look but repeated himself, a little louder.

“I apologize for being a jackass. There are my peace offering.”

He turned to exit but the Latin looking man blocked the door and shot him a bored pointed look- Phil wasn’t aware those two could be successfully combined but hey, apparently yes—and the blond turned only a fraction.

“You are the supreme lord of the universe.”

With that he ran out, the Latin stepping aside to let him go.

Suddenly the mood changed from charged and heavy to the calming relaxed atmosphere it had before. The woman flopped back to her bed, covering her eyes with her arm. The man walked calmly to Phil, stretching out his hand in the most non-threatening manner possible, a small sarcastic grin curling his lips.

“Jasper Sitwell. You can call me Amazing And Merciful God or Babysitter.”

The woman said something that sounded like a muffled “Asshole” from under her forearm. Sitwell stuck his tongue at her, and turned back to Phil.

“Maria says she already introduced herself, but I don’t think she did anything more than stare at you, I’ll do it. She’s Maria Hill, and well, you should call her Hill until she tells you otherwise if you like your balls where they are.”

Phil did nothing than stare at them for a long moment, before shaking Jasper’s hand gingerly.

“I’m Phil Coulson.”

Jasper smiled and both him Maria spoke at the same time.

“We know.”

OOOOOO

Phil was absolutely _not_ surprised when Fury, whose first name was apparently Nick, turned out to be true to his word. Phil did things in the first month with the man’s team he wasn’t aware was possible to do. He saw things he would probably be killed for if anybody ever knew he saw them.

His relationship with Hill and Jasper was one of the weirdest Phil had ever had. They fit together with the ease of very old partners, Jasper lightness counterbalancing Maria’s pessimistic tendencies and Phil’s secrecy. They all had sharp sarcastic humors when they unwind enough to use it, driving the other units up the wall, but amusing Nick greatly.

Nothing had been as gratifying as the first hand to hand lesson the three other members of the team tried to give him, to teach him to defend himself, so that he didn’t need a bodyguard at any time.

He knew he had been recruited mostly for infiltration and negotiation, his plain appearance, voice, and well, everything, giving him a distinct advantage, and everything fighting related was Hill’s job and Sitwell was the strategic man, while Fury made sure nobody got killed and/or court martialled.

But Fury didn’t like the idea of having single dimension subordinates, and as such made sure the three of them were far above average tacticians and infiltrators and hand to hand fighters.

Phil was aware this part of the training had been delayed so much simply out of respect for his sensibility toward physical proximity, especially with men.

So he felt a vicious amount of accomplishment and satisfaction when on the first day he had Sitwell pleading uncle after thirty seconds, and held his own against Hill for five minutes, finally taking her down with a dirty move he felt absolutely no shame about.

 The both of them stared unbelievingly at him, while Fury was clearly seeing under a new day. The tall man spoke slowly.

“You can fight.”

Phil, spread on the mattress, trying to get his breathe back because damn Hill knew how to punch to make it hurt, nodded.

Fury frowned at him.

“That wasn’t in your file.”

Phil simply shrugged. The black man wasn’t satisfied.

“Why didn’t you put it in?”

Phil shrugged again, voice ragged.

“It’s easiest to be the forgettable man.”

Jasper stared at him.

“You hid because you wanted to be forgettable?”

Phil got to his feet, nodding briskly once.

Jasper exploded.

“YOU FUCKING LET HIM RAPE YOU BECAUSE YOU FUCKING WANTED TO BE PLAIN?”

It was the first time anyone ever brought the topic on the table, it was the first time anybody said the “r” word. Phil, loosened by the fight found himself unable to rein the anger that reared up.

“THERE WAS FUCKING FOUR OF THEM! I COULDN’T FIGHT THEM EVEN IF I WANTED!”

“YOU COULD HAVE DONE SOMETHING ELSE THAN LIE DOWN AND TAKE IT!”

Phil felt as if he had been stabbed through the gut. Was this what Jasper had thought all along, under the friendly smiles, that Phil was a weak pushover? He sobered instantly; face closing in a cold and closed mask he had never reached before.

“You have no right to judge me. You have no right to judge my actions.  If we are to continue serving on the same team, I would appreciate you keep your reflection upon me to yourself. “

With that Phil turned on his heels and left, not caring about the sanction Fury would send his way later. He felt empty, and he had known it had been a horrible idea to hope.

He knew he shouldn’t have let himself think things would be different.

OOOOOO

Later that day, lying on his cot, staring at the barrack’s ceiling, Phil tried to crush every feeling he had about his team, trying to bring himself back to the state of mind he had with his previous one, where it was business and only business.

Until the door opened and Hill walked in, dropping herself on Phil’s bed, staring at him for a long time.

“Sitwell’s running laps. Fury’s making him do it.”

Phil shrugged, having nothing to say on the subject. Maria grimaced and shook her head.

“He was an idiot.”

Phil shrugged again.

“He’s not. He just doesn’t understand. He’s lucky.”

Maria laughed wryly.

“Yeah. But he didn’t say that because he thinks you’re a wimp.”

Phil gazed blankly at her because he really didn’t see how she could defend that. She sighed in frustration.

“It’s just- you don’t know how Fury talked about you before we managed to bring you in. He’s had his eyes on you ever since you enlisted and apparently saved your whole first unit by creating a bomb out of a wine bottle, Windex and some rubber band. And nobody ever knew it was you.”

Phil was floored. First, it was the longest speech Hill ever gave outside of a mission debriefing. Second, he was convinced that _no one_ had known about that incident. But Hill wasn’t done.

“So for us you were some kind of super being. And when we found you, and you know, about Ross, Jasper, he took it kind of weird. Because you were too good for that. And today, well for him it was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

She looked down at her hands.

“As good a strategist he is on the field, when it comes to more personal matters, he doesn’t understand that sometimes you just have to take it until the right moment. The moment where you can fight back and make them regret everything they did to you.”

She looked up and her eyes were steely. For a moment, they understood each other perfectly. Phil stretched his arm, and dragged her into his arms. She tightened into the hug until he stated

“I’m being  gay.”

OOOOOO

After an eternity, she spoke out, head pillowed on Phil’s chest.

“The person that sent you the email that night, Clint right?, do they know?”

Phil kept his eyes on the ceiling.

“No.”

Hill sighed.

“You should tell them.”

Phil shook his head.

“No.”

Hill turned to look at him.

“They have the right to know.”

Phil closed his eyes.

“I can’t do it to him. I can’t dump that on him.”

Hill frowned.

“Why not?”

“He’s a civilian.”

Hill sighed again.

“Rape isn’t exclusive to the army.”

Phil looked down.

“Mine is.”

Hill seemed to accept that, settling back.

“Phil?”

“Yes?”

She took a deep breathe.

“You can call me Maria.”

Phil smiled his first true smile in months.

OOOOOO

Jasper never really apologized in so many words, but Phil found himself pitched against Ross in a sparing practice, when some higher up complained that ‘Fury’s Angels’ were too closed on themselves and needed to interact with other units more.

Phil had a minor panic attack that Maria, Jasper and Fury had to coax him through, but he never felt something as cathartic as handing his ass to Ross.

Safe to say no one else tried to touch him after that. Everybody knew it was exclusively a Maria Hill privilege.

OOOOOO

_Phil,_

_You’re an asshole you know that? All those months you made me feel like shit, than I heard nothing from you, and I feel like bigger shit because I know I dumped you in the middle of something tough, than I have to get a message from some chick I never heard of in my life to know you’ve been raped?_

_Go to hell bastard._

_Really._

_Then come back here, because I missed you a lot. Please talk to me this time. Don’t ignore me or I send the scary chick after you._

_Seriously, she sounded terrifying._

_Clint_

Phil read the message ten times before two thoughts started chasing themselves in his head.

He was going to kill Maria.

And oh my god Clint’s talking to him again.

His fingers shook over the keys. He didn’t know what to say. It had been months since he talked to Clint last, and he couldn’t help but think the other man _must_ have grown apart, that there was no way he would still want Phil in any way after the way he screwed up.

_Hello Clint,_

_I apologize for the angst I caused you. I assure you it wasn’t intended. I simply didn’t think it my place to place such a burden on you._

_I am sorry. I can’t be the one you want._

_Pleasure,_

_Phil._

“You’re an idiot.”

Phil turned, ignoring the way his insides were churning, a reminder of the heartbreak he had thought he had been over. Maria was just by his shoulder, reading his message with a hard expression.

Phil’s jaw tightened.

“What are you going to do about it? Send an e-mail to him divulging more details about my private life?”

Maria glared at him.

“I already interfered more than I should and wanted. You are on your own.”

She turned on her heels and strode out of the lounge. Phil turned to stare at the screen, steeling himself as he pressed send, closing the monitor before he could do something _really_ stupid.

OOOOOOO

_So that’s what’s it’s all been about? Sparing my sensitivities? Fuck you. I could have helped you, if you had let me in._

_I work in a fucking circus. I’ve seen and heard and stopped horrible things. I know how it is._

_I can help you. Please let me in._

_You’ll always be what I want._

_Please_

_Clint_

OOOOOOO

_Hello Clint,_

_I don’t think I could convey in words the shame I feel at making you suffer. It was never my intention, I swear._

_But your last message has given me worries. Has anything of the sort ever happened to you?_

_And I know what you want, Clint. I can’t be the boyfriend I told you I’d be. I can’t. Not anymore. I can’t be your port in the storm._

_Phil_

OOOOOOO

Fury strode in, looking infinitely pleased with himself.  Jasper, Maria and Phil looked up from their poker game.

“Alright, team. Guess you just got approached by S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

Maria and Phil tensed while Jasper simply cocked an eyebrow.

“Congrats, boss. When do you start?”

Fury smirked.

“In two months.”

Phil started hyperventilating.

He was going to go back to the barracks.

He was going to be thrown back.

He hadn’t been good enough.

Now he would be alone again.

He’d be split from Maria, and from Jasper, and from Fury.

Phil jumped to his feet, mumbled something that sounded vaguely like a “Good for you, sir” and ran out of the room, ran as far as he good before his already labored breathing forced his to stop.

He slid down the side of a building sitting and doing his best not to think about the future.

_Why was he so good at deluding himself?_

“Hill was right. You _are_ a stupid motherfucker when you’re in the mood.”

Phil looked up and stared into Fury’s eyes, the black man standing tall above him.

“When S.H.I.E.L.D. came, I had only one condition.”

Phil frowned at him. S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn’t known for negotiating. Everybody knew about the directorate, everyone aspired to be recruited by them. That Fury would stand up to them was unexpected.

The man smiled down at him.

“I told them I wouldn’t come in without my three favorite losers.”

Phil’s eyes widened, but Fury wasn’t done.

“So what do you say, dum head? Are you in?”

This time Phil didn’t even need to think about it.

“Yes sir.”

Fury nodded decisively.

“Good. Now you have two months to get your house in order, because I fully expect you to have a boy waiting for you at the airport when we get back.”

Without leaving anytime for Phil to process that Maria was the biggest bitch in the universe, the tall black man walked away, his coat flaring dramatically behind him.

OOOOOOO

_Nothing happened to me. Not like that, at any rate. Got a few beatings, but that’s it._

_I hope you realised you had no right to ask. But I’m going to start this on good base of forgiven and understanding._

_You’re still an asshole._

_Oh and fuck you for choosing what_ I _want. I’m a responsible adult; I’m perfectly able to decide for myself. And for some reason, I still want to be with you._

_Clint_

OOOOOOO

_I’m glad you didn’t go through it._

_I’m sorry again. I never seem to do anything right._

_But since I can’t chose for you I can at least expose why I am not suitable._

_I can’t bear the touch of a man. I can’t bear the proximity of a man. Every unexpected move makes me panic, and unexpected_ touches _make me lash out._

_I’m dangerous, Clint, and I can’t control myself all the times._

OOOOOOO

_Well we’ll keep the sex down for a time._

_Anyway, I don’t want you in control. I want you to let go._

OOOOOOO

_I’m coming back to the states. 25 of June, at JFK._

OOOOOOO

_Is that an invitation?_

OOOOOOO

_It’s anything you want to make of it. I won’t be able to message you anymore before I’m back home._

_Talk to you later_

OOOOOOO

Phil pretended to sleep all the way home.

He was exhausted of the two others constantly pestering to know whether or not Clint would be here to wait for him.

He didn’t know, and it was eating up inside.

He shouldn’t have offered. Clint never gave any inclination to want anything else than an online relationship.

He never even saw Phil. Phil knew he couldn’t be anything but disappointed. After so long talking to each other, there was no way Clint didn’t a have a mental picture of him, didn’t have expectations.

When they landed, Phil tried to hide behind Fury and Jasper, but Maria, as usual, saw right through him, and pushed him forward.

He had turned to glare at her, when he heard a hesitant voice at his left.

“Phil?”

He turned and stopped.

Before him stood one of the most gorgeous men he had ever seen. Clint-it had to be- had short cropped blond hair, a small frame and arms Phil would gladly die for.

That was without talking about the amazing kaleidoscopic eyes that mixed blue, green, gray and flax of gold.

Phil deflated, heart falling to his feet. There was no way he would ever want Phil, not when he was so clearly out of his leagues. He must have thought Phil was something of the super soldier, a modern era Captain America.

Everything Phil wasn’t and hadn’t even been before Ross tried to shatter him.

Anyhow, it wouldn’t do for him to be rude.

“Hello Clint.”

Clint smiled, eyes twinkling. Phil knew that, the circumstances had been different, he would have hugged him. As it was, he kept himself a respectful three feet away, hands in his pockets.

His eyes racked up and down Phil, who was caught between trying to hide himself or puff himself, as sure as he was that Clint was disappointed, but hoping against hope that he would find something he liked.

The younger man talked, voice a tad shy, for some reason.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

From the corner of his eyes, Phil saw the rest of his team standing a bit farther, enough to be polite, but close enough to be able to intervene if necessary.

“Likewise, I assure you.”

Clint ducked his head and looked at Phil from under his lashes, in a way that shouldn’t be endearing for a fully grown man.

“I’d understand if you only want to go sleep or something, but you know… I could take you out for a real meal. Not pizza, I mean, New York doesn’t come close to Chicago, but you know, anything, like, deli sandwiches, I mean, there are great, and you mustn’t have much of them out there- But you probably want to—“

Phil had to almost shout to make himself heard.

“Clint!”

The other man stopped talking instantly, staring at him with wide eyes. Phil took a long breathe, smiling at Clint, almost nothing, a curl of the corner of his lips, but it was completely genuine.

“I’d love to.”

Clint beamed, and once again Phil could see he barely restrained himself from hugging him.

“Shall we go?”

Phil nodded once, briskly.

“We shall.”

OOOOOOO

The date was awkward, at least in the beginning. Despite Clint’s best efforts at ignoring the issues, he was still hurt that Phil didn’t trust him to tell him about Ross, and Phil was constantly battling the bile rising through his throat.

After a while they found something to talk about.

Clint walked Phil to his hotel room where he stayed at the moment with the team.

That was their first date.

OOOOOO

Their second date was the typical dinner and movie. Phil wasn’t even sure what they’d go and see, because honestly, there was never anything worth watching in _February,_ but if Clint wanted to do this the classic way he certainly wasn’t going to complaint.

He met the other man in front of the restaurant they’d agreed on, a small Greek hole in the wall Phil had found when he wandered in the city, trying to keep himself busy.

The start of the meal was as awkward as the last one, and Phil couldn’t help but despair over how two people who spoke together for months by e-mail didn’t seem to find a single thing to discuss when face to face.

And because he still was Phil Coulson and he had given up on ever knowing what to do around Clint, he cleared his throat and asked the question he most feared the answer of.

“When are you due to go back to the circus?”

Clint’s jaw tightened and he looked down, his hands clenching.

“We had a disagreement.”

Phil didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what was expected. Should he press on, asking for details? Should he shut up and listen? Should he offer his help to find a new job for Clint?

In the end, Clint finally looked back up, eyes filled with fear, frustration, and hope. The hope that Phil wouldn’t send him away, that he could stay.

Phil slowly reached out and took his hand.

He didn’t panic.

OOOOOO

Phil was pretty sure it was too soon. After all, they had no more than seven dates, surely bringing Clint back home was pushing it a lot…

But the other options meant leaving Clint alone in New York, or leaving him with Maria and Jasper. Neither was acceptable, as far as Phil had a say in the matter. The former because Clint got bored easily, just lost the job he had since he was a kid and had a pretty impressive potential of destruction. The latter because they hadn’t actually met yet, and Phil wasn’t ready to let them bond without any kind of law enforcement on standby.

So Clint came to Chicago with him to gather whatever he needed to settle in New York to officially begin his employment with SHIELD.

It wasn’t as if they could meet his parents, they moved to New Mexico years ago, but it was still a milestone in Phil’s mind.

They went out to get pizza, and Phil felt just a little bit lighter.

OOOOOO

They had reached their fifteenth date, believe or not. Not that any of them counted, mind you. Because that would be creepy. And definitely not in character, because they were manly **manly man**, and they didn’t act like school girls.

Except they totally did…

Phil had been working at SHIELD for two months now and finally managed to pin point a date night for him and Clint between the madness that was now his work and Clint’s job at a nearby bar that more often than not claimed all his evenings.

They were eating on the couch-Clint refused to eat at the table-when Fury barged in. Phil was half way to getting his gun out when he realised it wasn’t in its intended place anymore, but rather in Clint’s hand, pointing at his superior’s forehead, placing himself in between the black man and his partner.

Phil would have _swooned_ if he wasn’t putting all his energy on breathing because Clint was half sprawled over him.

Fury didn’t even blink his eye, staring at Clint steadily.

“You’re Hawkeye?”

Clint was as tensed as a wire, and Phil tried desperately to crawl away, away from this barely contained strength that threatened to crush him.

“Depends.”

Fury’s lips twitched.

“Well, if you happened to be, I’d have a job offer for you.”

Clint sneered, his grip on the gun tightened. Through the haze of fear, Phil found himself wondering what happened in one of Clint’s past lives that ingrained this kind of reaction to a job offer.

Clint twitched to settle himself more on top of Phil, causing the other man to completely lose the train of thought. He wanted to whimper and curl himself into a ball, but then they’d find him, they’d notice him and it’d be worst.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Fury smiled at that.

“Nick Fury, senior agent at SHIELD. I’m your lover boy’s boss. I’m offering you a job with us.”

Clint froze at that, and Phil closed his eyes.

Please, please, no.

Fury looked at the archer for a long moment before nodding to himself and turning around.

“I’m leaving the information package on the table. Coulson’ll brief you if you have questions.”

With that he left. Clint took a deep breath, loosening his limbs and putting carefully the gun down on the low table, turning to Phil with a chuckly voice.

“Damn, Phil, your boss is we—Phil!”

As soon as Clint moved off him, Phil scrambled away, falling on the floor, breathing erratic.

He saw me. He saw me.

Run.

Run!

RUN!

Clint jumped to his feet, and caught Phil’s wrist.

The older gave in and curled himself into a whimpering, shuddering ball, waiting for the hits. Waiting for whatever would come his way…

Clint let him go at once, backing a few steps, cursing and apologizing under his breathe, catching on.

He stared at Phil for a long moment before walking away

The small part of Phil that was still somewhat in control broke to pieces.

_Of course Clint would leave._

_Who would want him now, now that he’s seen him, how pathetic and weak he was?_

_Clint would leave and Phil would be alone. Phil deserved to be alone._

_Phil didn’t deserve Clint. Clint deserved someone whole and beautiful and strong like him._

_Not Phil._

_Never Phil._

_Maybe Before Ross Phil would have been good enough. Maybe not. Phil had always been a coward._

_Clint wasn’t a coward._

“Phil.”

Clint voice was soft, and close, and it shouldn’t have been close, because Clint was gone, Clint should be gone, why was Clint here?

Phil curled himself tighter. It couldn’t be Clint. It was Ross that was imitating Clint to hurt him.

“Phil, it’s me. It’s Clint, I swear. It’s me. I won’t hurt you. You know I’ll never hurt you.”

Pressed his eyes tighter close. He couldn’t listen. It hurt more if he listened.

“No. Listen to me, Phil, please. You have to listen to me. Please?”

Ross never said please. He simply took and took and took, and never asked.

“That’s it. That’s it. It’s me. It’s Clint.”

Slowly, after what felt like hours, Phil uncurled, lifting his eyes to gaze upon Clint’s relieved and smiling face.

“There you are.”

Phil couldn’t talk, his throat still tight. He simply swallowed, staring at Clint.

_Why was he still here?_

_Why didn’t he leave?_

Clint offered him a glass.

“Thirsty? It’s only water. I thought we’d wait before breaking out the alcohol.”

Phil took it, drinking, grateful. Clint’s smile got a bit wider.

“That’s it. Let’s go to the couch. It’ll be better.”

Phil got up carefully, moving to the cushion. Clint settled himself as far as he could, giving Phil far more space than necessary, for which the older man was thankful but slightly disappointed. The archer cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry.”

Phil was shaking his head before Clint even finished his sentence.

“It’s not your fault.”

Clint shrugged in a careful careless manner, but Phil could see the guilt floating in his eyes.

“It kinda is.”

Phil made a point to look him into the depth of his eyes.

“No, it’s not.”

Clint still appeared unconvinced, but didn’t argue further.

They sat in silence for a long moment, their plates of food all but forgotten.

Phil looked at Clint, too far away at the other end of the couch. He took a deep breathe, shoving the mean voices in the back of his head.

Clint cocked his head at him. Phil held out a hand.

“Don’t move.”

Clint frowned but complied. Slowly, Phil moved to his side and gingerly settled himself on top of the archer, his ear by his heart.

Clint was stiller than a statue, waiting for any sign from Phil, any indication of what he could do.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

In.

Out.

Phil took Clint’s arm and wrapped it around himself, basking in the warmth he hadn’t enjoyed in too long.

An eternity later, Clint murmured softly.

“You okay?”

Phil smiled a bit and sighed.

“’m fine. Thanks.”

Clint breathed out.

“You’re welcome.”

OOOOOOO

Phil cancelled their eighteenth date. He would like to say he did it like a grown up, by talking face to face to Clint, by asking for explanations.

He didn’t. He sent a junior agent with a note indicating he didn’t want to see Clint tonight.

And he went back home.

_You knew it was going to happen._

_You knew you wouldn’t be good enough._

_Of course he went to look elsewhere. You won’t even kiss him._

_He deserved better. He finally saw him._

_Stop feeling sorry for yourself. At least Clint will be happy._

_You’re just not good enough._

_Just not good enough._

He was barely in, pondering in front of his wet bar whether Tequila or Vodka would knock him out faster, when his front door banged open, Clint barging in.

“FUCK YOU COULSON!”

Phil whirled around to face him, stomping down the fear that tried to claw its way up his chest.

_Please Clint, don’t do this._

Clint stopped himself barely two feet away from Phil, eyes flaming, drilling holes into Phil’s.

“What the HELL is this about?”

Phil refused to answer, not willing to play into Clint’s game. He simply stared at him until the younger man growled.

“Why are you cancelling on me when you clearly have no other plans and why didn’t you MAN UP and came to tell you yourself?”

Phil smiled blandly.

“I was under the impression you had found some more agreeable company for the evening, and didn’t wish to impose.”

Clint growled again.

“What the hell does that mean?”

Phil turned back to the wet bar. Shaming himself by drinking himself silly in front of Clint wasn’t his original plan, but it wasn’t as if it would change anything.

“You should go back to Agent Morse before she feels insulted.”

There was a long silence behind him before Clint hissed.

“You thought I was cheating on you?”

If Clint was angry before, he was completely mad now.

Phil didn’t answer, finally settling for the tequila. Clint grabbed him by the wrist- not strongly enough for a panic attack- and spun him around.

“You thought I was cheating on you!”

Phil swallowed and spoke in a miraculously even voice.

“I am aware that our relationship can be nothing but unsatisfactory to you and I apologize. I understand your need for another partner. I assure you I will hold no—“

“SHUT UP!”

Phil froze. Clint was glaring at him, deadly cold blue eyes piercing through him.

“SO that’s what you think of me. A sex addicted whore, like everyone else.”

Phil frowned.

“No, of course not!”

Clint grinned harshly, fists clenching and unclenching.

“Right. Of course not. That’s why you thought I was fucking Bobbie. Go to hell Coulson.”

He spun around, making for the exit.

It was his last chance to say _something._

“I thought you were seeing Agent Morse because that’s what you should do.”

Clint stopped, looking at him over his shoulder. Phil braced himself.

“You should be with her, and it was about time you saw it Clint. You deserve to be with her. I don’t deserve you. I’m too old and I’m broken. I can’t be what you need Clint, I can’t be enough for you. It tears me up inside, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m sorry I insulted you. It wasn’t my intent.”

He turned back toward the bar, uncapping the bottle. From the corner of his eye he saw Clint spin fully toward him, but it didn’t matter anymore.

“I wish you happiness Clint. To you and Bobbie. Tell her to treat you right for me.”

He went to take a swig- from the bottle, fuck it all-when a hand caught his. The touch was soft and gentle.

“How long?”

Phil refused to turn, refused to let the soft and gentle caress of Clint’s voice get to him. He refused to let Clint see the tears gathering behind his eyelids.

“Phil, how long?”

Phil shook his head. It didn’t matter anyway.

He lost Clint.

“I love you.”

He had spun around before he even completely registered and comprehended what Clint just said.

“What?”

Clint’s eyes were wide and liquid.

“I love you.”

Phil shook his head, a Ross’ voice rising like a litany from the pit in his brain where it was imprisoned.

_You don’t matter._

_No one will ever notice you._

_You’re so plain, Pippy…_

Clint reached out, caressing his cheek softly.

“Yes, I do. How long have you been torturing yourself? How long have you tried to keep your distance?”

Phil couldn’t understand the adoration in the younger man’s eyes. He couldn’t answer. He couldn’t think.

Clint smiled sadly.

“You are strong, and brilliant and smoking hot. You are amazing. I love you.”

He sounded like a child trying to voice his feelings inside him, bewildered and confused, unable to voice them properly, but absolutely earnest and genuine.

Phil’s heart broke.

“Clint…”

The other man nodded and led him to the couch, gathering him in his arms. When they were cuddling, and if Phil clung a bit more than usual, no one commented, Clint whispered softly.

“Bobbie needed to work on a persona for her next infiltration. Sitwell volunteered me as a dummy.”

Phil didn’t answer. There was nothing more to be said. One day Clint would realize what he _could_ have and there would be nothing to be done about it. Maybe today he would get to keep this for a little while longer.

He sighed and whispered.

“I love you.”

Clint scratched his scalp softly.

OOOOOO

Phil wasn’t sure it counted, but just too bad. SHIELD had been crazy lately, and it was the first time in two weeks he saw Clint, let alone spent more than an hour in his company. Furthermore, it was six in the evening and there was food.

Therefore it counted as a date. Their thirtieth, in fact.

“Phil! Tell the red butterfly to stop eating the purple penguins. Penguins are nice! Bad butterflies! Bad, bad, bad butterfly!”

The fact that Clint was drugged up to the eyeballs after he got his leg crushed under a truck in his latest mission was irrelevant.

Phil didn’t even realize he had fallen asleep until he woke up with the worst crick in the neck he had experience, a familiar hand carding through his hair.

He looked up into Clint’s mercifully focused eyes. The archer smiled happily at him.

“Hey sleeping beauty.”

Phil’s heart stuttered in his chest, incandescently happy for a second, alone with a healthy and safe Clint.

Before he could think the better of it, he had leaned forward, keeping Clint’s face still with his hands, kissing him softly.

It was nothing, no more than a peck, but the beaming smile it earned him told an entirely different story.

OOOOOOO

They had been sharing a bed for a while now, not even trying to pretend that they weren’t living together. Thankfully Phil had managed until now to keep his parents blissfully ignorant of his relationship with Clint and mostly everything that came with it, but he knew it couldn’t last forever, fond as they were to arrive unannounced.

Phil had even jerked Clint off a couple times, the first being a reward for his good behavior at the Medical Ward while his leg healed correctly.

This night however, when Clint was done and cleaned, loose and pliant with satisfaction, when he offered to reciprocated as he did every time, Phil nodded and rolled on his back, offering himself to Clint.

He hadn’t thought that the level of worship Clint offered his penis was humanly possible, hands working magic as he whispered sweet nothings in Phil’s ear, kissing his cheek, his nose, his mouth.

On their thirty-fifth date, Phil saw the stars for the first time in far too long.

OOOOOOO

Phil’s parents called in the middle of their fortieth date.

The older man solved the dilemma of them talking his ear off about how he should come and visit, how nice the weather was promptly declaring that they were interrupting his diner with his boyfriend and hanging up before he could think better about it.

He barely had time to finish his main course and to pay before Clint dragged him out.

The archer dropped to his knees, only waiting for Phil permission before swallowing his cock like a starving man.

OOOOOOO

The day after his mother called back during in lunch hour, demanding every little detail about this new young man.

Phil answered with patience, calm and just enough of lies not to get any of them in trouble.

He rewarded himself that evening by returning Clint’s favor and taking great pleasure in breaking the younger man down with his mouth and tongue.

Their forty first ended up being Phil feeding a blissed out Clint Chinese takeout.

After he assured the younger man he hadn’t felt coerced into blowing him, that he had done it because he wanted to, that he felt incredible, because Clint was fussy about consent.

Phil did his best not to fall even more in love with him for it.

He failed.

OOOOOOO

On their fiftieth date, they both gave up pretending that they weren’t counting. They were counting, and they reached fifty dates and that was all that mattered.

On their fiftieth date, after Phil took Clint out to one of the best restaurant in town, after the went to see the archer’s favorite play on Broadway, Phil spread him adoringly on the bed, and fingered him lovingly, for an eternity and half, until he was sure he wouldn’t hurt the archer, until he slid in him like it was where he had always belonged.

For a few blissful, amazing moments, they were one, an amazing, smooth, unbroken being.

They were perfect, and nothing else mattered.

The anniversary of that day was the first they ever bothered to celebrate year after year.

OOOOOO

Their hundredth date, the one on which they agreed to stop counting, was to most magical.

On that day, Phil finally believed that Clint would stay with him, when he slowly walked up the aisle, brought by the Russian spy they acquired along the way.

When he smiled at Phil with that amazing smile that said everything they would never be able to voice.

When they shared ‘I do’s, Phil finally accepted that he could be enough for that man.

Maybe he hadn’t been so broken.

 

That night, Clint erased the last of Ross’ marks when he slowly penetrated Phil, when he made love to his husband.

 


End file.
